The Noble Heart
by hermionestargazer
Summary: Severus Snape has experienced disappointed love before, and has stayed away from such entaglements since. Now, he finds that Hermione Granger has a heart for him. Will he refuse her?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Professor Severus Snape sighed heavily as he went about his rounds on an unseasonably cold night in late May. He was, quite simply, exhausted. It was very late, and his patrol usually took him a full hour—an hour to which he usually looked forward.

But, not tonight.

He and his apprentice, one Miss Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess, insufferable know-it-all, and bushy-haired annoyance extraordinaire, had been hard at work on Remus Lupin's wolfsbane potion. And, even though they had started on it directly after dinner, it had still taken four solid hours of excruciatingly precise cutting, chopping, and grinding—along with the careful attention necessary in timing the adding of each ingredient. This did not surprise Snape, as he was fully aware of how complicated a potion like wolfsbane was, but it still rankled him to think that he was, once again, being inconvenienced. Especially since there was no love lost between him and Lupin. In truth, they were just short of enemies, having only borne one another's company for the sake of their work in the Order of the Phoenix

"Blasted werewolf!" the potions master snapped, now unreasonably irritated. "Why can he not find someone else to do his brewing?"

Snape's boot heels continued to click angrily on the stone as he followed his well known path. With a scowl on his face, he threw open classroom doors to give each room a perfunctory perusal before flinging them shut again, with a satisfying 'bang'.

A short time later, he came upon a grisly, floor length portrait of Gregory the Great, triumphantly holding the bloody, severed head of a dragon before him. The great wizard was famous for single-handedly slaying four dragons in one night, thus saving the small, but burgeoning town of Hogsmeade from certain fiery destruction some 400 years prior.

Without so much as a glance at the venerable Gregory, Snape ripped the portrait away from the hidden doorway. Slipping behind it, he proceeded to slam the hapless dragon slayer's frame behind him so hard, that Gregory felt compelled to lodge a muffled, but no less indignant complaint.

"Really, Sir! A little restraint, I beg you!"

Snape only growled, as he swept through the darkened and close corridor. The smudges of light coming at intervals from the wall sconces did little to permeate the inky blackness. The corridor was, in a word, gloomy, but strangely comforting in its silence and warmth. He knew he would find no wandering students here. Only the teachers and Mr. Filch knew of this dusky passageway.

As he continued forward, he let his mind wander and found it resting on the inimitable Miss Granger. Certainly, it had not been Snape's idea to take her on as apprentice. That had all been Minerva's doing. The little chit had applied to her former head of house, and current Headmistress directly for help in attaining the position, not two weeks after her graduation from Hogwarts last summer.

Severus chuckled when he thought of it. Clearly, Hermione would have made a fine Slytherin. She had undoubtedly known that he would never agree to teach her without extreme coercion…And, Minerva had risen to the challenge…admirably.

The result had been an explosion of such magnitude that Snape had later wondered that no one had come to see if there were any dead bodies to pull from the wreckage. Snape had bellowed so loudly and for so long that he had been hoarse for a week. All to no avail…for, in the end, Minerva had insisted, just as vociferously, that he send the little interloper her contract immediately.

Hermione's first few weeks working with him, he had done everything he could think of to rid himself of her unwanted presence. He had been cold, even cruel. He had berated her unmercifully. He had set her to the most irksome of tasks, but she would not be moved. She, in fact, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. She was always smiling and busy about her work. Never once did she give him the satisfaction of a cross word, or a frown, let alone the fit of angry tears he so dearly wished to extract from her.

Eventually, Severus had been forced to capitulate. She was, though he had yet to admit it to her, an asset to his work. She was timely in completing her tasks, creative in her thinking, without being careless, and he had yet to find a potion she could not brew successfully. By mid year he had turned over to her all the brewing for the hospital wing, all the preparation for his classes, and much of the grading. He had even begun inviting her to help him with his private research.

In truth, he found he did not know how to get along without her anymore. Here it was May, approximately nine months after she had come to him, and he could not bear to imagine the time when she would not be at his side. Where he had once counted down the days when he would be at last released from his contract with her, now he found himself heaving a sigh of relief at the thought that he still had fifteen months in which to enjoy her company.

'Enjoy her company?' When had that happened? Another great sigh escaped Snape, as he realized that it was an apt way to encapsulate his feelings concerning her. He allowed himself to think more deeply on his…dare he call it a "relationship"…with Hermione Granger. Yes, why fool himself. He could not deny that he considered her…what? A co-worker? A companion? No. He must admit, if only to himself, that he considered Hermione Granger, the former bane of his existence, a friend.

Snape let this revelation roll about in his mind for a bit. He stopped walking, and squirmed uncomfortably, his face twisting thoughtfully.

_No_,he thought, his eyes widening with sudden realization. _It is more than that. _

Severus shook himself. How in Merlin's name had it happened! How had it come to be that he had given this chit such access to his life…to his very heart! With sudden fury, he balled a fist and rammed it into his other hand viciously. This could not be! He did not care for Hermione Granger!

He had never cared for any woman.

_All right then_,said a small insistent voice in his head. _Then explain how it is that you 'cannot bear to imagine the time when she would not be at (your) side'!_

"Silence!" Severus shouted, eyes flashing, fists balled.

_Your words, not mine! _the voice whispered sullenly.

The fearsome potions master let his shoulders slump in defeat for a moment.

"All right!" he ground out menacingly, as he resumed his march to the end of the secret passageway.

It was true, he realized miserably. There _was_ something there, and he felt tortured by the knowledge.

What was he to do? Severus Snape had never found himself in such a predicament before, and he hardly knew how to handle it.

"She just cannot know!" he whispered fervently, pausing at the exit to the corridor. "She can never be allowed to find out!"

Of this much he was certain; he must keep Hermione in total ignorance of his feelings for her. For one thing, he knew she would never return his feelings, and he would not put himself through such painful rejection. For another, he knew he was not half good enough for her, even if by some miracle he could garner her affections.

In that moment, Snape's frustration knew no bounds.

_Why did this have to happen now! _he thought angrily. _In all my 39 years of life, I have managed to escape such entanglements…_

_Wait just a minute. _The inner voice was back. _That is not entirely true, _it reminded.

"Lily," Snape whispered, gently letting his forehead fall against the door in front of him in abjection.

_Yes, Lily, _the voice said, not unkindly.

Oh, how he had loved her! But, he had been forced to admire her from afar, just as he knew he must do now with Hermione. She, too, had been brilliant and attractive, with her good, solid mind, large green eyes, and long, red tresses.

She, too, had been…inaccessible. But, she had been kind to him. Even when everyone else had hated him, had been cruel to him, or worse, indifferent, she had stood up for him. And how had he repaid her? By calling her the most despicable of names…

Mudblood.

He had called that precious girl, who had never done him any harm, a mudblood. And all because he was embarrassed when she had tried to make James Potter, who had dangled him upside down in front of an appreciative crowd of his fellow Snape haters, put him down.

For a moment, Snape was awash in one of his most painful memories. He closed his eyes, bracing himself with one hand against the door. He saw again her lovely face…saw it cave in at his cruel words. He heard her defensive words in return. He remembered his heart ache after that incident, when she stopped acknowledging him in the halls, only lowering her eyes and chewing her bottom lip as she passed him. He had wanted so much to apologize to her, to make her understand that he really hadn't meant to call her that awful name. And, Snape had almost worked up the courage to speak to her, when she began dating James Potter, his tormentor.

He had felt sick at his stomach for a week after seeing them together for the first time. He could never approach her to ask her forgiveness after that. He could never risk James finding out that his favorite whipping boy had humbled himself like that. James was exceedingly arrogant, and would surely use the information against him, if he could find a way.

"Ridiculous pride!" he said through clenched teeth, chastising himself, as he slammed through the corridor's exit door.

No, he would not risk revealing his feelings to Hermione. One humiliating experience with women was enough for him. He would keep his own counsel.

_Just like you did with Lily. _the voice reminded self righteously.

"Oh, shut it, you!"

The painful little trip down memory lane, coupled with the very new realization that he might be in love with Hermione Granger, put Snape in one of his foulest moods. He was growling and hissing angrily, in an attempt to vent his unsettled feelings, as he approached the staircase leading to the astronomy tower. His one small comfort at this moment was found in knowing that he was sure to find a harvest of students from whom to take points. And, taking points always made him feel better.

Why the hormonal little dunderheads continued to frequent the tower was beyond him. He was there every night to clear them out, but still they came. Some nights he made more than one visit, especially if his day had been particularly frustrating.

Now very weary, Snape stepped onto the enclosed, winding stone staircase. It was chilly here. The tower staircase had always been something of a wind tunnel, making the slightest breeze seem like a rushing, wild wind. He felt a gust of cool air lift his hair and swish his robes, and it refreshed him.

He loved the tower. He had come to it often when he could not sleep after having been in the presence of the Dark Lord, or when the memories were too near, and he felt constricted by them…like he needed a wide open space, or he would quite literally suffocate.

The tower had been the only place he could go at these times.

He had often looked to the stars and felt the cool, gentle moonshine reach out to heal him. It was an incomplete healing, at best, but it took away a little of the pain, enough so that he could breathe again. And, sometimes, that small relief had been all that stood between him and insanity, or worse.

Now, as he reached the top of the steps, he quieted himself for a moment. It was always his intention on these raids to sneak up on any erring students when they were completely unawares. It gave him a little thrill to see the first couple he found jump, eyes dilated, explicit, palpable fear contorting their faces. It was a childish game he liked to play…childish, but nonetheless amusing.

Snape's eyes were already accustomed to the shadowy night, as the stairs had been without light, so he could see quite clearly to the balustrade several yards in front of him. He could see his first victim standing there, back to him, head tilted up into the velvety black, bestarred sky, hands placed on the rail in front of her. She was perfectly still and quiet. A playful gust gently ruffled her robes and waist length, unbound, curly, chestnut tresses, but otherwise she did not move.

Something made Snape pause in the doorway, as he eyed the girl before him. He knew her form, even in the soft moonlight. It was her, his assistant. It was Hermione.

For a moment, he considered what to do. He could leave her; give her the privacy she was probably seeking. Obviously, if there had been any out of bounds students here before her, she would have sent them about their business. He was not needed to do that job. Or, he could ask to join her. Perhaps she wished to talk, or even just bear his silent company. But, once again, something told him just to stay where he was, so he drew silently back into the shadows of the doorway to wait, for what he did not know.

Why was she here? He had never known her to seek out the tower. Of course, it was not for him to know all her activities when she was not at work in his lab…he knew that, but he felt reasonably confident that she would have mentioned it if she had been visiting the tower often. She tended to share little bits of her life with him in the course of their days together. He had found this annoying at first, but now he rather liked to picture her involved in her little habits and interests.

He knew why he came to the tower, for comfort in his troubles. Did she have troubles? Was she seeking solace, as he had done so many times before?

He knew she had had plenty to worry her when she had first come to take up her apprenticeship. He could admit he had been horrid to her. But, now…had he done anything recently to hurt or upset her? Snape thought about their evening in the lab brewing the wolfsbane potion. He had been clipped in speaking to her, but he often was when they worked. He was not one for small talk at those times. It had never seemed to bother her before.

After standing there puzzling and watching for another few minutes, Snape began to feel torn. He did not like to feel he was spying on Hermione, but at the same time he wished to be of assistance if she needed him.

_Oh, this is ridiculous! I will simply approach her and ask her if she wishes my company. She is a woman with a mind of her own, and quite competent to know what she wants. If she tells me to go, I will._

Just as Snape was on point of coming out of the shadows to reveal his presence to Hermione, he saw her shift, lower her head for a moment, and begin to turn around. Despite his decision to speak to her, he found himself pulling back into the dim concealment of the doorway, once more.

The moonlight bathed her so that her face was clearly visible to the potions master. He held back a gasp at the sight. Her countenance was a mask of sorrow, tears streaming down her cheeks, forehead wrinkled in anguish. For a moment, Snape stood staring at her, completely at a loss. What in the name of Merlin was wrong with her?

At that moment, Hermione lifted a handkerchief to her face, and Snape heard a despairing cry escape her. He felt as though someone was tearing his heart out at the sound.

But, he was completely unprepared for what he witnessed next.

"Severus!" she sobbed gently, pressing the sodden handkerchief to her eyes once more. "How I wish you knew! How I wish I could tell you!"

Snape's eyes widened, and he felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest excitedly.

What could she mean by that? What did she wish to tell him?

He felt himself sliding further back from the door. Even in his extreme consternation he knew he must retreat from his current position with all haste. She would be wishing to leave soon, and it would not do for her to catch him watching her in what was obviously meant to be a very private moment.

His mind and heart reeling, Snape quietly wound down the steps as quickly and quietly as possible. His only wish was to escape detection and get to his quarters where he could sort out all he had seen and heard in peace.

Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, he swept to his right, and in a swirl of his black robes, sped away toward his chambers without looking back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Snape, using every hidden passageway he knew, made it to his rooms in no less than fifteen minutes. During his trek to his chambers, he had not let himself think of all he had seen and heard in the astronomy tower. His one goal had been to reach sanctuary, so he could examine in minute detail the scene he still could not believe had unfolded before him.

Slamming into his classroom, he did not stop for one moment to catch his breath, but proceeded to his rooms at the back of the lab. He growled out the password impatiently and waited for the door to open before him, only to throw himself desperately into his sitting room.

"Thank the gods!" he panted, falling back against the closed door and rolling his head back with relief.

The beleaguered "bat of the dungeons" stumbled to his favorite chair before the fire and fell into it heavily. Leaning his head back into the soft, black leather, he took a deep breath in an attempt to quiet his body, mind, and spirit. He let the quiet, cozy atmosphere of his chambers envelope him.

Truth be told, Snape's rooms were most pleasant, if a little dark in tone. The chair he had collapsed on before the crackling fire was low slung and rather plainly appointed. It was large, black, and squashy, and had a rather ungainly appearance, somewhat like a big, black slumbering dog lying at the hearth…comforting and familiar. Snape had spent a great deal of his free time in this very chair, and it fit his form like no other. It was one of very few constants in his life, and even though it was old as the hills and not particularly attractive, he was loathe to give it up. He would keep it for its faithful service, until it was just sticks and fluff.

The rest of the room was well worn but comfortable, from the scarred up coffee table before the battered green leather couch, to the cluttered ancient roll top desk against the wall. There was a room sized carpet all in browns, blacks, and creams to keep the chill from seeping up from the flagstone, and the walls were covered in the ornate but muted tapestries and portraits that had originally been in the rooms when Snape had taken up residence. But, Snape's favorite piece in the room was the ceiling to floor, wall length book case in which was his preponderance of books.

Snape's love of reading was well known amongst the other teachers, who usually gave him books at Christmas. And, though he was apt to be very restrained in his other activities, he had no compunction whatever about purchasing a good book whenever he came upon one that caught his fancy. Thus, his bookcase was full to overflowing, with the excess stacked on the floor in front of it.

The whole apartment had a lived in look and feel to it. It was clean, but reflected its owner's rather reclusive, studious personality.

Now, as Snape sought to unruffle his decidedly ruffled spirit, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts be overtaken by the perplexing scene he had left behind him in the tower. What on earth had Hermione been on about?

"_Severus!" she sobbed gently, pressing the sodden handkerchief to her eyes once more. "How I wish you knew! How I wish I could tell you!"_

Snape's eyes flew open, as her anguished words resounded in his heart once again. What could she possibly wish to tell him that could cause her so much pain? And, why would she feel she must hide anything from him? Did she fear embarrassment? Would what she had to say anger him?

Snape steepled his fingers in front of him in a thoughtful attitude. He had already established to his satisfaction that he had done nothing that day to hurt or upset her. Besides, her anguish had been too deep to be attributed to a workplace difficulty. It could not be a personal problem that she wished to share with him. She had her closest friends… Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, perhaps even Ginny Weasley…people with whom she shared her deeper thoughts.

As this thought occurred to him, he felt regretful that he could not include himself on the list of her closest confidants. He and Hermione had been on a first name basis for only the last couple of months. It was a rather severe departure from etiquette, but it seemed ludicrous for her to call him Professor Snape all the time, when they spent so much time together in close proximity. Besides, they had an easy, comfortable working relationship, and when they were not at work on something that required their utmost concentration, they had even engaged in lighter conversation, with a little joking on the side.

A few times, he had invited her to his rooms to read with him. It had been most pleasant to share with her their mutual love of books. He remembered that she had all but swooned when she had seen his private library. He had been pleased that she was pleased.

He had never considered until last night that he would ever wish to know the depths of her heart. In fact, there had been a time when he would have run far and fast if Hermione had wished to confide in him. It surprised him that he now longed for the privilege of such intimacy with her. He shook his head slowly. What was wrong with him?

Snape shook himself mentally, and returned to the problem at hand. He thought upon Hermione's painful declaration again. And, it seemed to him that the thing that was tormenting her must have something to do with him directly. If he had not hurt her in anyway, and she did not wish to confide in him about some unknown difficulty, then what was the matter with her?

Snape's eyes narrowed and he found himself clutching the arms of his chair, as a wholly new and admittedly exciting thought came to him. What would be the one thing that Hermione would not tell him, no matter how much she wished to do so? What was the one thing that he had discovered this very evening within his own heart and had vowed she must never know?

Could it be? Was it even remotely possible?

Snape felt his heart pounding in his chest, as if he had just run a marathon. Without moving anything else, he lifted a languid hand toward the small cabinet in the corner beyond the fireplace.

"Accio, fire whiskey." he murmured huskily.

The cabinet creaked open and with a 'whoosh' of air the cold, hard bottle slapped his open palm. He next summoned a glass, and with shaking hands poured his drink. He tossed it back with practiced movements and, sucking the air past his teeth with a hiss, felt a shudder passed through him, as the fiery liquid traveled down his throat and warmed his stomach.

_Just enough to steady my nerves, _he thought. _I need to be able to think clearly._

He sat for some moments letting the idea that Hermione might care for him settle uneasily into his heart and mind.

He felt utterly terrified.

Suddenly, Snape let out a hearty, deep throated laugh.

_I, the intrepid spy who stands before the Dark Lord as he probes my mind looking for proof of treachery…the one who faces down death daily…I am terrified of a small, bushy haired Gryffindor girl! Ridiculous!_

He tossed back another shot, and sat back in his chair, bottle in one hand, and glass in the other.

_No, _he continued miserably, not daring to say the words aloud, _I am not afraid of the girl. I am afraid of my own feelings._

In that moment, Snape knew he and his bottle of fire whiskey would not part company until late into the night.

The next morning was as drear and colorless as Snape's outlook on his life. He had awakened quite suddenly, feeling as though he had been hit by a particularly vicious rogue bludger…several times…in the head. He sat up dizzily and realized that at some point in the night, he had stumbled to his bedroom and had managed to remove one boot and one pant leg before passing solidly out across his bed, face down on top of the deep green coverlet. He could still see the drool spot.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Merciful gods! Someone was bloody well breaking down his door!

"Just a moment," he rasped testily, as he oozed off his bed gingerly.

With head pounding and stomach roiling, Snape tried to right himself while pulling his half shed clothes back on and running his shaking hands through his hair.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Snape rolled his eyes painfully and found himself fighting not to wretch, as his aching head pounded all the more in protest of his insisting on remaining upright.

"Keep your bloody shirt on!" he called acidly. "I'm coming!"

Trying and failing to assume his characteristic smooth, gliding gate, he moved to his door, hoping against hope that he did not look as ghastly as he felt. Upon throwing it open angrily, he found none other than the intrepid Miss Hermione Granger, his apprentice, eyes wide and face the very picture of concern.

"Severus?" she inquired, voice high and apprehensive. "Are you quite all right? I have been knocking for several minutes. We usually begin work at 8:30 on Saturday mornings. It is now a quarter past nine." She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sick?" she asked as she moved past him into his sitting room.

As she took in the state of the room, particularly the damning empty fire whiskey bottle lying forgotten on the floor beside his chair, along with the shot glass turned on it side and spilling its incriminating contents on the upholstery of his chair, he wanted to sink into the floor with horror and embarrassment. He watched as Hermione's eyes narrowed knowingly.

"Oh," she said, attempting but failing to hide her shock. "I'm sorry. I am obviously intruding," she said coolly, as she made to turn back to the door.

Now, Snape felt irritation welling up inside of him. Who did she think she was treating him like an errant child?

"Have you never known a wizard to drink a bit of fire whiskey, you ridiculous girl?" he growled, glaring at her challengingly.

"Of course I have, _Professor_!" she shot back, straightening her back and tilting her chin up to meet his challenge. "I've just never known _you_ to drink so much that you were indisposed for work the next morning!" she finished, knowing by the clench of his jaw that she had hit her mark.

Now, Snape's shame evaporated and he felt instead boiling, caustic anger running through his veins, chasing the remaining fire whiskey out of his system. He suddenly felt amazingly clear headed.

"I am not indisposed!" he spat, his face contorting. "Why are you invading my privacy anyway? I do not remember inviting you to my chambers!"

Hermione's face reddened and her eyes flashed. "I came to see that you were alright. It is unlike you to be late," she said in low, dangerously clipped tones. "I was concerned."

Snape smirked disdainfully, as he moved to his door with some of his old grace and grabbed the handle, pulling it open sharply.

"Well, as you can plainly see, I am perfectly fine!" he sneered, as he made a courtly bow and waved his hand toward the door in an overdone gesture of showing her out. "Now you may _leave_!" he said pointedly, with a flash of teeth.

Hermione lowered her eyes and pursed her lips, but said no more as she swept from the room haughtily.

Snape slammed the door behind her causing it to crack like thunder. He would have been pleased to see her jump, before she sped away.

Hermione felt hot tears well up in her eyes, as she paced around Snape's lab, wringing her hands piteously.

_What was I thinking?_ she berated herself._ Going to his rooms! Oh, when will I stop being so impulsive!_

To her credit, she really had been concerned about the dark potions master. And, in her concern, it had not occurred to her that she was being presumptuous in checking on him.

Why had he felt it necessary to be so waspish? Hermione's chin tilted up defiantly once more at the thought of Snape's degrading behavior.

"For heaven's sake!" she muttered sulkily, crossing her arms and letting her eyes drop petulantly to her shoes. "I was only trying to help!"

It was times like these that made her want to kick herself for loving the man so! He was not an easy man, nor was he particularly pleasant to be around a great deal of the time. She wondered what made her think she couldn't do without him.

_He is a good man, and he has a good heart, _she told herself with conviction. _And, he is brave, and brilliant, and fiercely loyal. He does what is right, even if it is to his hurt…_

Tears of frustration and sorrow began to course down her reddened cheeks, as she slowly trudged to her workbench and mechanically began setting up for the day's brewing. She wasn't even sure Snape would come out of his rooms, let alone wish to work with her.

At that thought, Hermione's tears fell even more copiously. She stopped her preparations and eased herself onto the stool she kept by her station and reached into her robes for her handkerchief.

_Damn him! Maybe it would be better if I just left, _she thought, feeling wretchedly alone. _After all, he didn't tell me what to do! I could go to the library and see if there is anything more I can learn to help Harry. _

At the thought of Harry, Hermione found herself once again painfully regretting that she was not with him and Ron searching for horcruxes. Though she knew it was for the best that she had stayed behind, she couldn't help wishing she was with her two closest friends.

Only the year before, which had been the trios last as students at Hogwarts, she had spent every free minute researching to get as much information on horcruxes that she could possibly find. She had put her considerable brain power to work in trying to discover what the remaining horcruxes were and where they might be found. And, she had met with surprisingly greater success than she had suspected she ever could have.

Of course, the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, had given her special permission to use the Ministry's library, and had set up a floo connection between her head girl's room and the Ministry, so that she could have twenty-four hour access if she needed it. That library had been just a plethora of extremely useful information.

Harry and Ron, meanwhile, had taken private defense lessons with Remus Lupin and Mad Eye Moody. And, Professor Snape, who was cleared of all charges regarding the death of Professor Albus Dumbledore after evidence of Dumbledore's complicity in the matter had been found in his pensieve, had returned to the school to resume teaching and to continue instructing Harry in Occlumency. His insight into the Dark Lord's thinking, and, of course, his information on Voldemort's movement had also been invaluable in Harry's preparation.

Hermione still wondered how Professor Snape had kept the confidence of the Dark Lord after his capture and subsequent acquittal of Dumbledore's murder. She didn't dare ask, but she certainly wondered. Perhaps she would gain the courage to ask him one day.

Hermione forced her thoughts back to Harry, leaving the mystery surrounding Professor Snape for a future moment of thoughtfulness.

She sighed as she thought about how long it had been since she had seen either Harry or Ron.

It had been shortly after graduation when Harry and Ron had set out on the quest for the remaining horcruxes, leaving her behind. Hermione had been ordered by Minerva McGonagall, now head of the Order of the Phoenix in Dumbledore's place, to remain at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had felt that Hermione would do her friends more good if she were using her strengths as a researcher and strategist on their behalf, instead of fighting it out on the front line.

The day of her two friends' departure Hermione had thought she might die of a broken heart, but it soon became apparent to her that Professor McGonagall was quite right in her assessment of Hermione's rightful place in this mission. For, since that time, she had been called upon to crack several of Lord Voldemort's admittedly clever puzzles in order to gain Harry access to two of the all important horcruxes, which were subsequently destroyed.

Hermione allowed herself a small smile at that remembrance. She was pleased she had been able to help her friends, even if she could not be nearer to them.

Extricating herself from her reverie, Hermione balled her handkerchief up in her hand and took a deep breath. She knew that the wolfsbane potion needed to be finished in the next few hours, or it would be useless.

_Perhaps I should finish it on my own, though I think it would serve him right if he had to brew it all over again. Why, the loss of the ingredients alone would…_

She frowned and shook her head a little at her own childishness. Of course, she must finish it. Remus was counting on having it tomorrow morning.

And, with quiet, tearless determination, Hermione headed to the supply closet for the needed ingredients.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Snape was so angry after Hermione's ignominious departure that he was fairly dancing about the room with rage.

"What does she mean by judging how I conduct myself in the privacy of my own rooms?!" he bellowed, his eyes glinting ominously.

Fisting his hands and clenching his jaw with fury, Snape veered somewhat unsteadily toward his bedroom and bath. He headed straight to the sink and lifted his eyes hesitantly to the small mirror just above it. What he saw made him cringe.

_So much for not looking as ghastly as I feel, _he whispered despisingly.

The countenance Snape now beheld looked positively ill. He was even more sallow than ever, and the anger-induced bright pink tinge on his thin cheeks only served to make him look like some sort of garishly painted clown. His dark eyes were bloodshot, and his naturally lank hair was so shiny with oil that it appeared as though someone had sleeked it back with axle grease.

"Gods!" he grimaced quietly, his anger almost completely squelched by a return engagement with gut wrenching embarrassment. "No wonder she looked so concerned… No wonder she asked if I was sick."

In his shame, he found he could not speak her name, nor think it either.

He seated himself on the edge of his bathtub and let his weary, aching head fall into his hands in despair.

_What have I done? She comes to look for me out of the goodness of her heart, and I despise her for her honest concern. I mock her, and send her away in the most humiliating way I can!_

"Bloody brilliant!" he cursed himself, jumping up in his agitation. He felt completely out of his element. He did not know what to do with the mess that threatened to overwhelm him completely…the mess he felt convinced was largely of his own creation.

He had to admit it…He did not know how to proceed. He stood for a few moments in indecision, hating himself for being at such a loss.

"Enough!" he shouted suddenly, cutting through the air with his hand. "This situation is too delicate for me to handle on my own. I will have to speak with Minerva," he admitted grimly.

As he prepared to bathe, he wished he could just wash away not only the accumulated grime from his drunken spree, but the night's…and morning's…multiple horrors, as well.

_If only it were that simple,_ he thought, chuckling mirthlessly.

As Snape performed his ablutions, Hermione was hard at work on the wolfsbane potion. She had long since given up on the Professor's appearance in the lab. It was clear to her that he was far too angry with her to wish her company, for work…or any other reason.

With a look of utmost concentration, she bottled and corked the now cooled potion, making sure to label it carefully.

"There," she said, feeling satisfied with a job well done.

After carefully transferring the vials to Snape's desk, Hermione pulled her wand to clean her workspace, starting with her cauldron.

"Evanesco," she intoned wearily.

That done, she 'evanesco'd' the inevitable spilled ingredients on her bench. Then…

"Scourgify." And, her tools were spotless.

After carefully placing each piece in her potions kit, Hermione inspected her workbench one last time, before pulling a bit of parchment and her ink and quill from the bag she never went anywhere without, and wrote her surly potions master a short note.

Hermione laid her note in a prominent place beside the vials, and, with a last longing look at Snape's chambers door, shouldered her bag and took her leave of the lab she had come to love almost as much as its master.

Still in a slightly hung over state, Snape slammed around in his bathroom for twenty minutes, trying to bring some semblance of normalcy to his appearance. When he had done all he could, he looked in the mirror once more.

"Passable," he growled, narrowing his eyes at his reflection. He still looked ill, but at least not frighteningly so.

He could do no more to improve himself at present. Besides, having decided on a course of action—namely cornering Minerva in her office for a rather important chat---he was impatient to be gone.

The thought of food positively nauseated Snape, and he knew that Minerva would offer him tea anyway, so he decided to forgo an attempt at eating for the moment.

He looked at the old wooden clock above his mantelpiece and saw that it was now half past ten. He hoped Minerva would be in. He did not wish to wait to speak with her on the matter at hand. So, without further ado he swung his midnight black cloak over his shoulders and swept out of his rooms.

With a practiced eye, he looked for anything out of place in his lab. Everything seemed to be as it should…nothing amiss. Then, his obsidian gaze fell on his desk at the head of the dusky, gloomy classroom.

In three strides, the potions master was swooping over his desk, one graceful, long fingered hand grasping one of the three vials upon it. Holding it up, he immediately identified its contents.

She had finished their work. She had stayed, after all that had transpired between them, and finished the wolfsbane potion. As this realization came to him, he saw the small roll of parchment lying beside the other two vials. He scooped it up, unrolled it quickly, and let his eyes scan it hungrily.

_Severus,_

_As you can see, I have finished brewing the wolfsbane potion for Remus Lupin. I have also tested it for efficacy and safety, as per protocol. According to the results, the potion is safe and fully efficacious. (Please see my notes in the brewing log.) I understand you may wish to test it again. After all, it is your findings that matter, not mine, as you are the master._

_That having been said, I would also like to sincerely apologize for coming unannounced to your rooms this morning. I did not mean to presume upon you, but I see now that I have. Please be assured, I will not repeat the mistake again. _

_I wish to apologize for what I said to you, as well. I realize that I have no right, or invitation to tell you how to spend your free time. It is none of my business, and it was wrong of me to speak to you so disrespectfully. I hope you will forgive me._

_Unless I hear differently from you, I will look forward to continuing our work on Monday morning._

_Most Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

Snape felt a dull, aching pain growing in his heart as he finished reading. He let the hand holding her letter fall limply to his side. He had behaved reprehensibly and she was apologizing! Talk about fiery coals being heaped upon his head!

True, her behavior had been inappropriate, and she was also right when she'd written that she should not have pressed her opinions on him concerning his use of his private time. But, he knew now that his anger had not stemmed from any presumption on Hermione's part. The truth of the matter was that Snape had just been plain old embarrassed to have her see him…that way, and to cover up his shame, he had mistreated her terribly.

The truth was, it was he who should be apologizing to her.

Snape rolled Hermione's letter up and slipped it into a pocket inside his robes. His determination to speak with Minerva as soon as possible was now set in stone. He would wait not one moment longer than was necessary.

With that in mind, he set out for Minerva's office.

A quarter of an hour later, Snape knocked purposefully on the great oaken door to the headmistress's office.

"Come," a reedy voice entreated.

Snape took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He stood regarding Minerva McGonagall, headmistress and head of the Order, and suddenly he did not know if he could say what he had come to say.

"Severus!" Minerva greeted him happily, from behind her desk.

"Minerva," he said in subdued tones. He did not enter her office, but regarded her warily from the door.

Snape had always had great respect for the witch before him. She was levelheaded and brooked no nonsense, just like him. He admired her handling of her students, for she considered that a good life was a disciplined one. Because of this strongly held belief, she took every opportunity to instill discipline in her charges.

Minerva was also fair-minded, a trait Snape knew he could stand to improve in himself. He trusted her.

She was a faithful…friend.

"Severus," Minerva said softly, "Are you planning to speak with me from the door?"

Snape smirked at her and stepped into the room, closing the door solemnly.

"Oh, is it as serious as all that?" she asked almost playfully.

At Severus plainly disturbed countenance, she curbed her teasing hastily, and turned to the large, glassed in cabinet behind her to retrieve her ornate china tea service.

"Tea?" she asked as she prodded the tea pot with her wand. The little pot shuddered and spouted steam.

"Thank you," Snape said with begrudging politeness, as he received the cup of black tea she offered him.

"Now," Minerva said crisply, as she poured her own tea with a steady hand and gently stirred in two lumps of sugar. "Suppose you tell me what has happened to make you come to my office on a Saturday morning when you should be, if I am not very much mistaken, in your lab working with your apprentice."

Snape could have blessed Minerva in that moment, for her no nonsense attitude toward his uncharacteristic appearance in her office. Somehow, it comforted him and gave him the impetus he needed to speak. He decided to plunge right in.

"Last night, while patrolling, I came upon Hermione in the astronomy tower. She was alone, and I was curious as to why she was there at all, so…" he took a deep, apprehensive breath, "I watched her for a bit…"

Snape watched Minerva for her reaction to his practically admitting to spying on his apprentice. But, she only sipped her tea with an air of patient interest.

He felt encouraged by that, so he let the rest of his story tumble out of him. He made a great effort to seem dispassionate as he recounted Hermione's heartbreaking speech, his subsequent brainstorming session as to what it meant, his over imbibing the fire whiskey, and the confrontation between he and Hermione that very morning. Then, he finished with her apologetic letter and the completed wolfsbane potion.

Minerva regarded the potions master thoughtfully. He could almost see the tug of war playing out in her mind. It was obvious she had something to say, but was debating whether or not it would be wise to say it. Snape had no patience for her indecision.

"Out with it Minerva," he growled testily. "I assure you I do not need coddling. I came to hear your honest reaction. Please, do not fail me." It was a rough plea, but a plea nonetheless.

Minerva pursed her lips and replaced her now empty cup on its saucer. She leaned forward and eyed Snape sharply.

"I was wondering, Severus, how you would respond to Hermione if she were to confirm the suspicion that she cares for you," she said matter-of-factly.

Snape's eyes flashed and he jumped up with such force that the contents of his cup splashed out in an arc, hitting the carpet and staining it deeply. Minerva took no notice, but only waved him off nonchalantly.

"Oh, do sit down, Severus!" she cried impatiently. "It is a perfectly reasonable question!"

"It is nonsense!" he yelled, waving his hand for emphasis. "It does not matter what my reaction would be! There can never be a relationship between me and Hermione!"

Patently ignoring Minerva's request that he sit down, Snape began pacing agitatedly instead. Minerva stood, her face full of grim determination.

"And, why not, may I ask?" she inquired haughtily. "Honestly, Severus! It is not unheard of for two people who spend as much time together as you and Hermione do, to fall in love…"

Snape spun around to face her.

"Love?!" he raged. "Who said anything about love?!"

Minerva strode forward, determination in every step, until she was not a foot away from him.

"I am not blind, Severus!" she said, emphasizing each word. "Hermione lights up like a firefly when she is with you!" she insisted, poking a long bony finger into his chest. "And, judging by your current behavior, I'd say you return the sentiment!"

Snape reeled back, his eyes wide, face pale, just as much struck by the surprising words of his superior, as her rather too forceful jabbing.

Minerva drew herself up and gave him a satisfied look.

"Severus Snape, speechless," she said acidly. "I never thought I'd see the day. Now sit down and let's discuss this like civilized adults." She pointed an imperious finger at his chair.

So deep was Snape's shock that he could only do her bidding in continued silence. Minerva took her seat, and primly refilled her cup and produced and filled another cup for him, as well. The stained carpet was still being ignored by both parties.

"That's better," Minerva continued easily.

Snape's eyes were upon her as he waited expectantly. He had given up all pretense of having control of the conversation. He knew when he had been bested.

"Now, I wish to know why it is you do not think you and Hermione could ever have a relationship outside of the lab," she asked in an almost conversational tone.

Snape looked at Minerva, carefully hiding his incredulity.

"There are several reasons, not the least of which is our age difference…" he began.

"What ridiculousness!" Minerva interrupted. "Your being older than Hermione has nothing whatever to do with this."

"Pardon me if I think it does," Snape replied dryly.

"Nonsense," Minerva asserted. "You know as well as I do that a wizard's life span is at least twice that of a muggle. Besides, Hermione is extremely mature, and the two of you have so much in common."

"What, for instance?" Snape replied nastily, momentarily distracted from the question of age.

Minerva rolled her eyes, as if his question was too stupid to be borne.

"You are both very intelligent. You are both extremely fond of reading and research…and, of course, you both enjoy potions." she countered, a hint of smugness in her voice. "Neither of you is, shall we say, overly social. I'll wager you'd have a fine time just sitting before your fire reading together…"

"Enough!" Snape barked.

Minerva was getting a little too close for comfort. He wondered if she knew that he had, upon occasion, had Hermione in his rooms to do just as she had suggested. He leveled her with his gaze, but she only stared plaintively back at him, giving no impression that she knew anything about it.

_Bloody hell! She is probably bloody omniscient, like her predecessor, _he thought uneasily.

Minerva smiled at him genially. "I am only saying you seem quite compatible, having similar likes and dislikes." she said placatingly.

"Perhaps," he mumbled.

"What else is worrying you, Severus?"

"Well, Minerva, let's see," he said, his voice fairly dripping with sarcasm. "Let's start with the fact that I am a former death eater, and am currently working as a spy for the Order! How about that I live in constant danger, and anyone who is near to me would almost certainly become a target for the Dark Lord, should I displease him! Oh, and then there is always the fact that Hermione is a muggle born witch and the Dark Lord would not understand my interest in her, given I am supposed to hate muggles and muggleborns with the same fanatical passion he and his faithful followers do!"

Snape's voice rose in timber with every point he made, so that by the time he was finished he was positively shouting…And, he was up and pacing again in a desperate attempt to quell the growing, aching desire to obliterate the obstacles he was being forced to put into words.

Minerva, for her part, remained impassive, and this unnerved Snape to no end. He felt he must explode.

"Damn it, woman!" he spat ferociously. "Can you not see how impossible this is?"

"Honestly, Severus!" Minerva burst forth irritably. "How you do run on! Has it never occurred to you that we are in a war?"

Snape stopped his pacing and stared at her, his face full of his incredulity.

"Of course I know we are in a war! What do you think I have been talking about all this time?" he said, wearily falling into his chair, and resting his still aching head in his hands.

"Well, then," she continued ignoring his exhausted posture. "you know that war is never easy…and always dangerous…especially when one is in love."

Snape snapped his head up and looked at her, his eyes painfully questioning. Minerva smiled at him gently.

"Severus," she said, her voice almost caressingly soft. "Do you imagine you are the first wizard to find himself in love in a time of war?" she paused slightly, letting her question hang in the air a moment. "And, do you imagine that no other couple on the face of this globe, either muggle or wizard kind, has ever had to make hard choices and sacrifices in hopes of better times ahead?"

"I suppose not," he finally acceded softly.

Minerva's face was soft and thoughtful. For a moment, she stared past Snape, looking as though her thoughts were in another time and another place. It was some moments before she spoke again.

"There are solutions to your problems, Severus," she said in low, but gently emphatic tones. "You must remember that love is a force unto itself. In fact, it is the single most powerful force on the face of the earth."

Snape felt a shiver run down his spine. Suddenly, he knew this was a moment he would remember for the rest of his life.

He watched, as if in a dream, as Minerva got up from her desk and came around it to stand before him. Without knowing why, he got to his feet and faced her, his eyes searching hers urgently. She smiled at him affectionately, and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. He did not pull away from her, but allowed himself to find comfort in her simple, but meaningful gesture.

"Don't worry, Severus," she said, her voice quietly confident. "Love always finds a way."

"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"_Don't worry, Severus," she said, her voice quietly confident. "Love always finds a way."_

Snape, in retrospect, could not believe he had not had even the slightest desire to sneer at Minerva, or, at least, roll his eyes derisively at her use of such an old and corny cliché. He had, in fact, done the exact opposite.

He had taken great hope from the words…

Now, as he sat before his fire, brooding on the morning's events, he found himself reviewing the remainder of that surprising, and sometimes downright mystical conversation.

Snape thought how cleverly Minerva had managed to assert that he loved Hermione without forcing him to say the words himself.

"_And, why not, may I ask?" she inquired haughtily. "Honestly, Severus! It is not unheard of for two people who spend as much time together as you and Hermione do, to fall in love…" _

_Snape spun around to face her._

"_Love?!" he raged. "Who said anything about love?!"_

_Minerva strode forward, determination in every step, until she was not a foot away from him. _

"_I am not blind, Severus!" she said, emphasizing each word. "Hermione lights up like a firefly when she is with you!" she insisted, poking a long bony finger into his chest. "And, judging by your current behavior, I'd say you return the sentiment!"_

He had not denied it.

A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped him and a wistful smile spread across his face.

_Very good, Minerva, _he thought, mentally tipping his hat to her. _A tactical move worthy of a Slytherin…_

Snape had to admit that the rest of the conversation had been much easier without him having to dodge any questions about his feelings. It was, truthfully, much more productive than he had imagined it would be; all because he had not been obliged to prevaricate to protect himself.

He had, in fact, gone on to be brutally frank about the difficulties he saw preventing him from approaching Hermione with a declaration. But, Minerva had been unmoved.

Snape had been more than a little surprised at her reaction, for he had expected her to agree with him completely. Instead, she had insisted that all was not lost. She had laid out arguments against his reasoning…sometimes quite vigorously.

"_Do you honestly believe that Hermione is unaware of what a death eater's activities are?" she pressed. _

_Snape stared at her through hooded eyes, wishing to keep his thoughts indiscernible. Minerva was undeterred._

"_I think not. Hermione is a researcher and almost certainly follows the creed 'know your enemies'. It is far more likely she has read all she can get her hands on about the Dark Lord and his death eaters. And, yet, I think you would be hard pressed to find anyone who admires you more. She knows of the sacrifices you have made as a spy for the Order, and is more than a little awed by your willingness to do so."_

_Snape gazed suspiciously upon Minerva at this._

"_And, how do you know that?" he asked mockingly. "Have you spoken to her about it?"_

_Minerva colored slightly, and Snape's face reflected triumph as he sipped from his cup languorously._

"_As a matter of fact I have," she admitted a bit reluctantly. Snape nearly choked on his tea._

"_What did you say?" he asked in dangerous tones._

"_Now, Severus," she replied nervously, "I wasn't discussing your business, if that is what you are thinking…"_

_His look conveyed that that was exactly what he was thinking, but he said no more and waited impatiently for her to explain herself._

"_When Hermione came to me about wishing to become your apprentice, she made it very clear how much she respected and admired you for your potions skills. And, from there, she let me know that she felt your willing service to the side of right was praiseworthy, as well. In fact, she demonstrated rather a keen understanding of what your duties entailed." she paused, a thoughtful look on her face. "I remember being most favorably impressed," she finished with a reminiscent smile. _

_It was on the tip of Snape's tongue to ask for the particulars of the conversation, but, for whatever reason, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. It was enough to realize that Hermione was not entirely ignorant of his work as a spy, and the accompanying sacrifices he must make. _

_He felt unaccountably pleased, though he had no intention of showing that to Minerva, who was nervously fingering a quill and watching him for his reaction to her speech._

"_I see," he said, his voice reserved, his expression neutral. _

"_So, I think perhaps, that you needn't worry about shocking Hermione when it comes to your stint as a fully fledged death eater or your current position as a spy posing as a death eater."_

"_Perhaps," he said cautiously._

"_Almost certainly," Minerva insisted._

"_But, I am still not satisfied that Hermione would be safe if she were known to be with me in any other capacity than as my apprentice," he said with a nonchalance he did not feel. "It is a miracle that the Dark Lord accepted my excuse that I must take her to my service because you insisted upon it. He hates her not just because she is a brilliant, muggle witch, but because he knows she has helped Potter defeat him through the years, and continues to help him now."_

"_Severus," _

_Minerva attempted to interrupt, but Snape only spoke over her, his voice rising in desperation._

"_Has it not occurred to you that the Dark Lord may, at some point, insist that I try to get information out of Hermione, or bring her to him, or, worse yet, kill her?" _

_At this point, Snape jumped up and strode to the fire place in an attempt to take cover. He felt he could not look at Minerva, for he was on the verge of losing all control, and he could not bear to have her see his anguish at his own words._

_Minerva's voice floated to him softly, but nonetheless insistently._

"_Severus, listen to me," she pleaded gently. "Hermione is all ready in great danger, for as you have pointed out yourself, she is one of Harry Potter's closest friends. I dare say she is well aware of the risks she is taking remaining loyal to him. Do you suppose she has not thought through what it would mean for her if she was to act on her love for you, and the Dark Lord found out?"_

_Snape did not answer her or turn back from the fire, so Minerva continued._

"_Of course she has thought about it!" she said adamantly. "And, I think you should do her the honor of letting her follow her own heart and mind in the matter. She is an adult, Severus. You have no right to make such a decision for her."_

_Snape stared into the fire for some moments, digesting Minerva's reasoning._

"_What about my position as spy?" he inquired abruptly, abandoning all pretence. "If the Dark Lord finds out about my feelings for Hermione, not only would she be in danger, I would no longer be of use to the Order…"_

"_Severus, although I cannot guarantee the Dark Lord will never know about Hermione, there are ways to conceal your relationship with her. Think about it, she is your apprentice. She works closely with you, and lives here in the castle. It is the perfect set up for conducting a secret relationship," she said softly. "Besides, we both know that one way or another, the day will come when you can no longer attend the Dark Lord, because the danger will become too great." _

"_And, what of the possibility of my not surviving, Minerva," Snape almost whispered. "I rather think that I will not live to see the end of this war. Would it be fair to Hermione to begin something with her that I most likely will not be able to finish?"_

_At this, he finally turned to regard his superior with a bitter glance. Minerva did not give in to her impulse to show the sorrow filling her heart at his words._

"_We cannot know what will happen, Severus. We can only move ahead and hope for the best," she said with a sigh._

_He only nodded his agreement and turned back to the fire. Both he and Minerva, being lost in there own thoughts, remained companionably silent for a time._

Snape's thoughts now returned to his own room, as he sat in his favorite chair before his own blazing fire.

He had a decision to make. And, he felt compelled to make it rather quickly, for he knew he would go looking for Hermione that very evening in the astronomy tower. He must decide what to say to her. That night would be the beginning of the rest of his life…with or without Hermione Granger by his side.

Hermione, after having left the lab, had gone to her rooms to collect her current research into Harry's quest to find the remaining horcruxes. She really had no heart to work on it, especially after her confrontation with Snape, but could not bear the thought of just sitting and doing nothing.

Though she often enjoyed a walk about the lake as a general rule, going outside did not appeal to her either, at the moment. So, to the Ministry library she would go.

After checking to see that everything she needed was in her bag, Hermione spiritlessly reached for the floo powder and took a pinch. She threw it on the fire, which in seconds turned a soft green, and emitted only the slightest warm breeze.

She stepped in, and, with an unenthusiastic intonation of, "Ministry library", she felt herself spinning away from her quarters. She felt it, rather than saw it, for she had learned keeping her eyes closed allowed her to travel with much more comfort…and much less motion sickness.

Stepping out of the library fire place, Hermione grimaced as she brushed soot from her robes. She hated floo travel, though she had never admitted it to anyone. It was just too…messy.

The library was largely empty, Hermione noted gratefully. Only Mrs. Markley, the sprightly, if ancient librarian could be seen flitting about from shelf to shelf, deftly replacing volumes, with her magenta robes swishing dramatically about her.

Hermione allowed herself a small smile as she watched Mrs. Markley working with her beloved books. Her expression was almost fearsome in her concentration. If Hermione had not known the librarian so well, she would have thought her a horrible old crank. The truth was that no witch could possibly have been friendlier, or more amiable.

"Hello, Mrs. Markley," Hermione said in her soft library voice.

Mrs. Markley looked up at her and immediately her intense expression gave way to a face wreathed in the pleasantest of smiles. She moved toward Hermione with astonishing speed for someone of her age.

"Hermione, dear," she replied in equally subdued tones. "How are you? I was wondering when I might see you again. It has been some time…"

"Yes, I have been quite busy." she said, trying to be cheerful and failing. "But, today I find myself unoccupied, so I thought I might catch up on some research."

Mrs. Markley, who was very perceptive, was not fooled by the younger witch's falsely bright demeanor. Her blue eyes narrowed knowingly behind her horn rimmed spectacles and her lips pursed.

"How about some tea, dear?" she asked, grabbing Hermione's hand and tugging her toward the front of the impressively large room.

Hermione, feeling somewhat shocked, nonetheless made no protest, but allowed her diminutive, but surprisingly strong friend to pull her along.

They did not stop at the long wooden counter that served as the checkout desk, but continued behind it to a door, which opened with a muttered password from Mrs. Markley.

Hermione stepped through at an insistent final tug of the librarian's hand, and felt herself immediately at home. This was not her first time in Mrs. Markley's private office. In fact, she and the old librarian had shared tea and quiet conversation in this room several times over the last almost two years. Mrs. Markley was a trustworthy friend and confidant.

_Perhaps I have come here for something other than research,_ Hermione thought, as the seemingly ever present ache in her heart intensified.

At Mrs. Markley's invitation Hermione took her seat in a small, wooden chair before the desk and waited as the little, old, grey-haired witch prepared tea.

The office was small, cluttered, and somewhat gloomy, but touches of Mrs. Markley's distinctive personality were everywhere, from the doily on the back of the old horse hair chair in one corner, to the small knitting bag with a profusion of brightly colored yarn spilling out of it sitting next to the desk, to the tomes about ancient runes upon it. The walls were drab, and the air smelt of candle wax, old parchment, and dust. Hermione loved that smell.

With a sigh, she felt herself begin to relax into this unexpected moment of peace and rest in the midst of her personal storm.

"All right, dear," Mrs. Markley said gently, as she set the loaded tea tray on her desk, "how about if you tell me what is troubling you."

Hermione looked at her friend, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Is it that obvious, Mrs. Markley?" she asked.

"Very," Mrs. Markley confirmed, nodding her head vigorously, thus making her short grey curls dance about her wizened, yet somehow child-like face.

Hermione did not touch the tea cup her friend placed before her on the desk. Suddenly, all her emotions seemed to be struggling within her. She took a deep breath, and tried valiantly to push them back, but her eyes pricked with tears regardless. So, she let her head fall into her hands. She could not fight her despair any longer.

"Oh, Mrs. Markley!" she whimpered piteously.

Mrs. Markley sprang into action, rushing around the desk to press a handkerchief into her young friend's hand.

"Now, now, dear," she said soothingly, as she summoned her desk chair and sat beside Hermione to pat her hand. "Tell me what has happened."

"I feel so foolish," Hermione said softly.

"Is it a young man?" Mrs. Markley asked gently.

Hermione raised her tearstained face to stare incredulously at her comforter.

"How did you know?"

"It is a common ailment of the young, my dear." she answered sagely. "Besides, I know you to be very resilient. After all you have seen and done, only a broken heart could make you cry like you are doing now."

Hermione nodded.

"So, tell me about him, dear," the librarian encouraged with another pat on Hermione's hand.

Hermione steadied her breathing, and spoke very softly.

"He is brilliant, and noble, and brave," she said sadly. "He is well-read, fond of reading and research, and, without a doubt, the most exasperating man I have ever known." she finished with a little hiccup. "Excuse me…and…"

"And, you love him," Mrs. Markley supplied, with a sympathetic nod of her head.

"Yes," Hermione replied, despair in her every feature, "but, he does not love me."

"How do you know that, dear?"

Hermione stared at her questioningly. Mrs. Markley looked determined.

"Have you spoken to him about how you feel?" she asked, as if it were the most reasonable question in the world.

"No," Hermione mumbled.

"And why not?" she pressed, her all ready large blue eyes wide with surprise.

"I just can't," Hermione said, wringing the handkerchief in her hands agitatedly. "He is not exactly the most…approachable wizard in the world." she reasoned.

"Well, approachable or not, you might want to relieve yourself of this burden you are carrying," Mrs. Markley said pointedly. "Do you wish to pine after him forever, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione said miserably.

"Then, I say tell him what is in your heart," Mrs. Markley insisted. "After all, you are a brave girl, and what is the worst that can happen? If he rejects you, at least you will know how he feels, and then you can move on with your life."

Hermione felt as though enduring Snape's rejection would be about the worst thing that could happen to her, though she did not say so.

"And, you never know," Mrs. Markley continued, looking conspiratorial. "Your young wizard might surprise you. I have a feeling you might not understand him as well as you think."

Hermione looked doubtful, but the older witch only smiled and patted her hand again.

"Give it some thought, dear. Either way, whether you speak to him or not, you must find your peace."

"I suppose you are right," Hermione agreed reluctantly, as she stood to go.

Mrs. Markley smiled indulgently and showed Hermione out of her office.

Before she knew it, Hermione had made the floo trip back to her bright and cheerful rooms. She fell heavily into the chair before her fire. She had a lot of thinking to do.

Hermione knew somewhere inside of her that Mrs. Markley was right. It would not do to keep longing for a wizard who did not regard her as anything more than his competent assistant.

_Is it even possible that Severus could feel something for me? _she wondered.

It was true that Snape was very secretive, and very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings. His position as spy had only served to reinforce what Hermione saw as his innate proclivity not to be forthcoming in word or expression.

_Perhaps a surprise attack is the way to get him to open up. After all, he certainly would not expect me to proclaim my undying love to him, would he?_

Hermione let herself dwell on that thought for several minutes but found she could not take it at all seriously.

_No, _she thought sadly, yet more tears filling her large brown eyes. _I just know what he would say. I just know he does not love me, and I would be risking our friendship if I spoke now…not to mention my apprenticeship. For how would I be able to continue working with Severus if I told him I loved him and he didn't feel the same way?_

Feeling exhausted and heart sore, Hermione got up and stumbled to her couch to lie down.

Her decision was made.

She would not speak to Severus, and hope that one day she would get over him. It was the only way.

"Yes…the only way…" she assured herself, as she drifted off into a sleep destined to plague her with images of a wizard with a sallow complexion and long, lank, dark hair.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hermione woke from her nap feeling not one whit better. Her stomach ached with hunger—it was past 3 in the afternoon--But worse, her heart ached with sorrow at her decision not to speak to Snape about her love for him. Contrary to what she had thought, making that decision had not given her the peace she sought. Instead, she felt as though she were grieving a death…as if she had killed her heart's desire, and must now bury it in the deepest recesses of her being, never to be heard from again—only, the thing would not stay buried.

Hermione could not believe how much pain this whole situation was causing her.

_If this is what it is to be in love, then I will pass, thank you, _she thought grimly, tears starting to fall once again. _Oh, no! Not again! Not more crying! _she thought mournfully.

But, she did not try to stop her tears. Something told her she must allow them, for her own sake…for the sake of her healing. She cried stormily for several minutes, before she realized a small, furry someone was rubbing up against her feet.

"Oh, Crooks!" she cried, reaching down to pick her faithful companion up into her lap. "What ever will I do? I cannot continue to sorrow so!"

Hermione buried her face in Crookshank's neck and breathed in his warm, musky smell. In her anguish, she squeezed him a bit too hard, causing the orange, fluffy, half-kneazle to pull politely away and regard his mistress with thoughtful, yellow eyes.

"Sorry, Crooks," Hermione murmured, stroking the length of her pet's silky sides in apology.

Crookshanks dipped his head, as if in acquiescence, making Hermione feel, not for the first time, that he understood what she had said to him. Because she needed someone to talk to and no one else was present, Hermione went on.

"It just hurts so terribly, Crooks!" she cried, drawing him gently to her again. "I love Severus, but I know he does not return my feelings. I know I will have to get over him if I am to continue to work with him and finish my apprenticeship. But, how do I do that when I must always be in his presence? It would be so much easier if I could go away for awhile!"

Crookshanks offered his comfort by rubbing his flat, feline face lovingly against her hand. As Hermione looked at him in silent distress, he stared at his mistress, as if he was trying to communicate his sympathies to her.

"Thank you," she said softly, planting a kiss on top of Crookshank's fuzzy head.

She could have sworn she saw Crookshanks nod in reply, as he jumped gracefully off her lap and disappeared into the bedroom.

Snape, meanwhile, had also made his decision, and he now felt so nervous about it that he had been compelled to leave his rooms in favor of wandering about the castle. He walked slowly and in a listless manner, his hands clasped behind him, his brow furrowed in cogitation. So occupied was his mind, that he did not see Minerva approaching him until he had almost walked into her.

"Severus!" she said sharply by way of making her presence known.

Snape snapped too immediately, his face full of surprise.

"I am sorry, Minerva!" he said, bowing slightly. "I did not see you."

"That is apparent…" she said with a wry smile. "Deep in thought, were you? I take it that means you have not come to a decision concerning Hermione…"

Snape drew himself up and eyed his superior coldly.

"As a matter of fact, I have," he said in a tone which brooked no further questioning.

"I see," Minerva said coolly, determined not to show her discomfit at his hard stare.

She did not ask what he planned to do.

"Well, good luck with whatever you have decided, Severus," she said stiffly.

Snape felt a bit guilty about holding Minerva at arms length after all that had passed between them in her office that morning. He knew she was not trying to pry…He reached a hand out to touch her arm as she swept past him. She turned to him, her eyes guarded.

"Thank you, Minerva," he said tentatively, his eyes holding hers. "I appreciate your concern."

Immediately, the headmistress's face softened.

"You are welcome," she replied, gently covering his hand with hers for a fleeting moment before going on her way.

Snape allowed himself a small smile as he watched her.

The rest of the day was torturously slow for both Snape and Hermione…for him, because of his anxiousness to speak with his apprentice, and for her, because of the pain she could not get away from. Neither was to know of the other's angst until late that night.

As she had so often of late, Hermione sought her astronomy tower refuge at around midnight. She felt so heart sore that she almost did not make it to the tower before she burst into tears…again. But, even in her pain, Hermione found she could appreciate the soft, late spring breeze, and the luminescent star light. They were like balm to her harrowed up soul.

With desperate, halting steps she moved to her usual place at the balustrade, and leaning on it heavily, turned her pained gaze up to look at her silent but beautiful friends, the stars.

"I am glad to see you," she whispered.

"I am glad to see you, too," a deep, resonant voice answered from behind her.

Hermione started and turned to face her unannounced visitor, her eyes wide with shock.

"Severus! You startled me!" she cried, wiping her eyes and trying to appear as if she had not been crying.

Snape watched the futile attempt before he stepped closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"What is the matter, Hermione?" he asked, his voice more tender than she had ever heard it. "Why do you weep?"

Hermione only stared at him, disbelief in her soft brown eyes. Snape smoothly extracted a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her with a gentle smile.

"I never seem to have a handkerchief when I need one, do I?" she chastised herself in a whisper, casting her eyes down.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "How many times have you cried today?"

Feeling embarrassed, she took his offering and pressed it to her eyes, laughing nervously.

"More times than I care to recount," she murmured.

"Why?" he asked simply. "It cannot be because of our…disagreement earlier, can it?"

He had positioned himself beside her at the balustrade during his inquiry. His face was turned away from her, so she could not read his expression. She had a feeling he was hiding from her purposefully. She did not reply.

"I saw the wolfsbane potion on my desk," he continued in soft, almost caressing tones. "And, I read your letter…"

Hermione looked over at him quickly. He had turned his eyes to hers, but his expression was unreadable.

"I thank you for your apologies, but…" He heaved a sigh. "I believe it is I who should apologize."

Hermione fought to keep her jaw from dropping with her astonishment. Had Severus Snape just offered a sincere apology to her? Snape laughed softly.

"You would make a terrible spy, Hermione," he said, one side of his mouth curving with amusement.

Hermione let out a laugh. "Yes, I suppose I would," she agreed. "I have just never heard you apologize before. I did not think it possible." she said, her cheeks reddening slightly at her boldness. She did not, however, lower her eyes.

Snape gazed at her for a moment, a look on his face that Hermione could not identify.

"I think you will hear many things from me shortly that you did not think to hear," he said, his eyes glinting.

"I accept your apology," she said softly, her eyes full of wonderment.

"Thank you," he replied.

He found himself wishing to take her hand, to bypass these games and just pour his heart of love out to her, but he could not screw up the courage. So…

"I was here last night," he said abruptly, almost breathlessly. "I saw you…I heard you…"

Hermione gasped, laying one shaking hand over her open mouth. Her face had gone pale, her eyes wide as saucers. Snape could see her shame, her desperate wish to run from him.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"I am sorry," he said, his eyes dropping closed as the forefinger and thumb of one hand gently pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "I have been tactless. I am handling this badly."

Hermione was backing away from him, ready to run as soon as her legs stopped shaking.

"Do not go, Hermione," he said, his voice pleading. "I did not mean to upset you…"

Hermione found her voice.

"You heard me?" she cried in a high pitched squeak. "Oh, gods!"

"Listen to me, Hermione," he said moving toward her, reaching out to her.

But, she was now insensible. She gave him one, last haunted look and bolted for the doorway, but Snape was too quick for her. In an instant she was struggling in his arms wildly.

"Let me go!" she shrieked. "Let me go!"

But, Snape silently held on to her flailing form with all his might. She was crying almost hysterically, and hitting viciously at his shoulders and chest, but he said nothing. He was determined to hold her until she had worn herself out. It did not take long.

Soon, she had collapsed into his embrace, sobbing brokenly.

"Oh, gods. Oh, gods. Oh, gods," she whimpered, her hands clutching the front of his robes, her tormented face buried in his chest.

Snape felt as if his heart would break for her. Why had he blurted her secret out at her like that? What had he been thinking?

_I am a bigger dunderhead than any of my students ever thought to be!_

For some moments he just held her, gently stroking her soft, chestnut curls.

"I am so sorry, Hermione," he whispered consolingly. "I should not have…What I am trying to say is that…"

She pulled back to look at him, sudden understanding in her eyes.

"Just say it, Severus. Please just say it," she entreated, a soft smile on her lips.

Snape felt his heart skip a beat. He could plainly see her heart in her eyes.

"I wanted to tell you that I…I love you, Hermione," he said in low, loving tones.

"Oh, Severus!" she squealed, throwing herself into his arms once more. "Can this be real?" She squeezed him to her, letting rapture replace her anguish.

"It is real," he replied, taking her chin into one, long-fingered hand. "Look at me, Hermione."

She did as he bid her without hesitation. For a moment, his black eyes glinted at her with warm regard. He felt his heart swell with his love for her.

"There is much we must discuss before this goes any further," he pronounced, trying not to sound as fearful as he felt.

"All right, Severus," she acceded, puzzlement clearly written on her face.

Taking her hand, he led her to a small stone bench just steps away from their current position. After they both were seated, he gazed upon her and thought how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. She looked so innocent, so trusting, her eyes so full of love light. And, he wondered for the umpteenth time that day how it was that she could love someone like him. Then, he hoped with all his being that he was not about to chase her away.

Now, holding both her small hands in his larger ones, he hesitated to speak.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked, looking wary.

"I just wanted to be sure you knew what you were getting yourself into, if you throw your lot in with me," he said, looking down at their intertwined hands.

"What do you mean?" she asked, gently stroking the top of his hands with her thumbs.

Snape felt electricity shoot through him at her touch, but he pressed on.

"Hermione, I was a death eater in my youth…" he began.

"I know that," she said softly, squeezing his hands now.

"I am a spy for the Order," he went on.

"I know that, too," she countered again.

"I have to do distasteful things in order to keep the Dark Lord convinced that I am still loyal," he said huskily, his shame evident by his inability to meet her eyes. "Sometimes, I must do very distasteful things," he pressed, wanting her to fully understand him.

She was silent until he finally looked up at her, his eyes painfully questioning.

She smiled a sad smile.

"I know, my love," she said gently. "I am so sorry you are in such a position." She reached a hand out to push a bit of his hair away from his pain darkened eyes.

"You are sure you will not be bothered by my," he looked down again, "activities?"

It was her turn to lift his face to her gaze with one of her small, but surprisingly firm hands. He could not miss her determinedly loving look.

"No, Severus," she said definitely. "I am not bothered for myself, at all. I hurt for you, though. I long for you to be free from such odious duties." She stroked his cheek softly. "I admire you for being willing to suffer for the sake of the common good. I would not presume to judge your actions, because I know your heart. It is noble, and dedicated, and just…"

Snape stood suddenly, moving agitatedly back to the balustrade. He could not look at her.

"You make me out to be some kind of saint, Hermione!" he cried. "I cannot allow you to do it! I am no saint! Don't you understand? The things I do unwillingly now, I used to participate in whole-heartedly!"

Hermione was beside him in an instant. This was a defining moment, and she refused to let him run from her.

"But, you only prove my point!" she exclaimed. "Your heart is no longer in it, Severus! And, I am only concerned with your heart! Your heart is all I want!"

Snape swung around suddenly and gathered her into his arms and crushed her to him tightly.

"You _have_ my heart, you ridiculous girl!" he said lovingly, desperately. "You will always have it!"

Hermione snaked her arms around his waist and held him as tightly as he was holding her.

"This will be a dangerous proposition," he whispered into her hair. "If Lord Voldemort found out about us, I shudder to think…"

"I am not afraid," she replied, closing her eyes and enjoying to the full his arms around her.

"We will have to keep our relationship a secret, love. No one but, Minerva must know."

"Minerva?" Hermione questioned, but did not remove herself from his arms.

"I…I spoke to her today," he admitted very reluctantly.

Hermione did pull away just enough to grin up at him slyly. She thought she saw him color slightly, and a grimace come on his face.

"Did you?" she asked playfully. "Did you seek advice on the matter?" Her eyes were laughing.

Snape squirmed under her teasing.

"I might have," he said, watching her to gauge her reaction.

She only giggled and hugged him to her again.

"I think it is wonderful," she proclaimed, smiling as she felt him relax into her. "No one else will know until it is safe, if you think it best," she affirmed

"I do," he answered. "Thank you for your understanding."

"You are welcome," she said, looking up at him. "And now, are we done with this conversation? Have you any other concerns?"

"I do not think so. Why?"

"Well," she said, her eyes suddenly smoldering. "I was wondering when you might kiss me."

Snape started and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Hermione felt immediately foolish.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she stammered, looking down. "If you do not wish to…"

"Hermione, I love you. Of course I wish to kiss you. It is just…" She looked up at him sharply. He was coloring again.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked gently.

"I have never been with a woman," he said huskily. "At least, not with one who was willing to be with me." His face darkened with crippling guilt, as he tried to pull away from her. Self-loathing emanated from his every pore.

But, Hermione only pulled him to her again.

"No, Severus, don't," she pleaded. "I stand amazed at your honesty. That cannot have been easy to admit. But, I told you, I am not afraid of your past. Please, know that I will never run away from you…And, I am most willing to be with you."

With that, she stood on tip toes and very softly pressed her lips to his. Snape stiffened.

"It is all right, love," she whispered encouragingly against his lips. "Just relax. Just let me love you."

He shuddered, but did not pull away. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her waist and let his lips fall to hers once more. She gently entangled her fingers in his hair, and was rewarded with his soft groan. His lips moved more naturally over hers now. And, she returned his kiss enthusiastically for several seconds before they parted.

"Oh, my!" she murmured, resting her head on his chest and endeavoring to steady her weak knees.

"I agree," he said hoarsely, a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

He had not known that kissing a woman could be like that. Somehow he knew that for him, it would only be that wonderful when the woman he was kissing was Hermione.

"I love you, Severus."

"I love you, too, Hermione."

They stood together for some time, just basking in one another's presence and letting the moon and stars minister to them.

They both knew that when they left the tower the real struggles would begin. They did not know how long they would have to fight. They did not know how long the fates would grant them to be together. The only thing that mattered was this moment, now. The moment of their declaration and commitment…the moment when their hearts became one…

It was a moment each of them would remember for the rest of their lives.

Finis


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